


The Meaning of Flowers

by TearsThatHaveFallen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Car Accidents, Flowers, Giripan - Freeform, Language of Flowers, M/M, Minor Character Death, One Shot, Sad, Short One Shot, chrysanthemums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearsThatHaveFallen/pseuds/TearsThatHaveFallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrysanthemums. They were my favorite flowers.</p><p> </p><p> Giripan oneshot. Warning: Implied minor character death and boy x boy. <br/>R & R, this is my first fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Flowers

Chrysanthemums. I've always found them to be the most beautiful of flowers. It's funny, how something so alluring could be so sad and allegorical. In my home country, chysanthemums were a symbol of lamentations and grief. I'm fascinated by metaphors, and indirect meanings for things. I know the meaning of so many flowers because of this.

His favorites were anenomes. For those who don't know, they are a type of poppy. When asked, he'd always simply say that it was because of his love of the story of Adonis. He himself was an Adonis, and if I am truly honest with myself, I thought of him that way since we met. It was strange, seeing as I am not usually the kind of person to do that. And he was like a poppy, the symbol of sleep. XHe was always so sleepy.

He said, that though I liked chrysanthemums, I was much more like hyacinth flowers, and hence, Hyacinthus. A beautiful young man, whom had many others fighting for his affection, and was killed by a jealous man who loved one of his admirers. He told me not to get hurt by a discus, in his odd, tired way. It was hard to even tell if he was kidding, he always said everything so seriously. Like myself. A match made in heaven, I liked to think to myself. A perfect, fated match.

But that's all in the past. Now I sit silently, with him, surrounded by my used-to-be favorite blooms. I came to see him, bearing poppies, anemones. He is like an anemone, the symbol of death.

Sadik was so kind to me though the whole thing. I think he misses him, as well. They were close. He was Feliciano's uncle, too, though slightly younger then himself. I never understood that. Feliciano and him always said that Grandpa, or Papa in his case, Vargas was an odd promiscuous man. I decided not to pry from there. But it was nice of both of them to provide support. I legitimately broke down about half way through my speech, and everyone there seemed so surprised. I was so full of this creeping despair that I couldn't even keep my usually composed facade.

My dear Adonis, struck down not by a god, or a boar, but a metal death trap I helped design. It was my fault, for allowing myself to get close to him. I keep distant for a reason, because I can't take the pain of loss. I can't take this. I can't. I can't.

They really are ugly flowers, chrysanthemums.


End file.
